self-healing

I like to believe that if you listen to your body, if you react to all of its subtle and screaming instincts, then you can reach an all-encompassingly state of healthyness. The truest way to heal comes not from prescription drugs, expensive appointments, and late-night alcohol binges. These treatments may seem ambitious but truly fall short, leaving patients consitently unsatified and ever-searching for the next cheap solution. The more canny form of healing (however underrated it has become) is paying attention to the tiny twinges and impulses that come up from moment to moment, understanding what they mean, and feeding them as they ask. This is a beautiful ideology, one so sagicious that I would be proud to hold it as the theme to my lifestyle. Alas, it is just another belief that contradicts the way I actually live.
Last night I came home feeling satisfied and exhausted after a pleasent evening with a friend. I unlocked and pushed open the door to find an expectant Charlie waiting excitedly there for me. He pushed his nose into my jeaned leg, asking for a scratch on the ear, wondering where I had been all evening. Together, we pounded up to the stairs towards my (guess it is fair to say our) bed. I put out the lights, tore my pants off leaving them crumpled on the floor and fell onto my over-pillowed bed. He jumped in after me without outspoken invitation. For an hour I tossed this way and that, trying to find a comfortable place for my exhausted body to give in and fall into sleep. Nothing came. Next to me, Charlie's head on the pillow softly let out quiet puppy snores. Frusterated that I wasn't harmonizing, I mazed at his ability to react to his body's needs. If he's hungry, he tucks up to his bowl to munch on dry cereal. If his throat is dry, he runs right to his water bowl to lap. When I'm hungry I try to ignore the stomache pains until they go away so as not to add weight to my ever-plumping stomache...sleepy? I drink caffiene so that instead of falling into slumber I eternally have to pee.
I take drugs in attempts to clear my nose, allow me to focus, allow me to feel dillusioned. I have put myself in a position where I am incapable of falling asleep when my body and mind is exhausted. I have kept myself numb by interrupting emotions with intoxicants that keep me stupidly content. When I begin to realize how destructive I am being I go into hermit mode; I tear myself away from the world, only allowing my dog in as I hide behind hikes, early bedtimes, and literature. Though I feel like taking this time is a method of healing, in reality it probably puts me in a worse place. A place where I feel confident in being alone but also feel lonely and unsatisfied. I suppose I embrace this place because I feel like in the quiet, I can start to better hear what my body is telling me to do. It is my attempt to learn how to listen to her urges and grunts.
However through realizations, through learnings, I am still not at a place where I feel like I can take care of myself without the use of alien healing.